


No Help From Heaven or Hell

by awabubbles



Series: Tumblr Drabbles [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Castiel (Supernatural), Demon Blood Addict Sam Winchester, Gen, Sastiel - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-13
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-09-17 15:24:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16977123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awabubbles/pseuds/awabubbles
Summary: Sam is caught drinking demon blood.





	No Help From Heaven or Hell

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr prompt: sastiel + "I'm gonna be sick"

“What are you doing, Sam?”

Sam Winchester freezes and meets the cold blue eyes of a slight man in a large trench coat. For a minute, Sam stops breathing, because the man is just a vessel for something  _ else _ .

_ Castiel. _

Sam remembers the name with a sigh of reverence. Castiel is an angel, a  _ real  _ angel with the power to cross the gates of hell and pull a soul out from it’s depths, his  _ brother’s _ soul. The knowledge still fills Sam with awe. Even in the dark, in the back of a dirty motel with used needles at his feet and a dumpster of garbage to his right, it fills him with awe. The knowledge of power, and righteousness, things that exist for the better good, it buoys his hope that the things his brother and him fight for  _ actually matter _ .

“Sam.”

The angel speaks again, and this time Sam is aware of himself. Aware that it’s nearly dawn and he’s on the outskirts of town. Aware that he’s alone. Aware that he reeks of sex, of Ruby and her scent, but especially  _ of blood _ .

“Um…I, well it, n-nothing.” The urge to lie is sudden and compulsive. But even though Sam is filled with shame, he’s too scared to tell the truth. “Well actually I was following up on a lead to another case. You know, all this apocalypse stuff…sometimes the normal jobs they um, they help clear my head.”

“And…is it clear, now?” The angel asks. The crunch of gravel underfoot. Castiel takes a step forward.The black blood coursing through Sam’s veins rebels at his presence. It’s a weight crushing Sam’s chest, the grace of an angel compelling him to confess.

But he doesn’t. Even if divine lightening were to strike him dead, and part of Sam hopes that it will,  _ that it should.  _ He only smiles weakly and says “Yes.”

Silence. The calm before the storm? But the lightening never comes, only a car that passes, briefly illuminating Castiel in it’s headlights. Sam sees the angel’s face, usually calm and placid, drawn together tightly, studying him in the dark. Sam wraps an arm around himself. He can’t help feeling naked under those eyes.

“Your brother is due to wake up soon,” Castiel finally replies. “I thought you would like to be there when that happens.” His eyes flit to the motel behind Sam, and then back to him. “Because you are bad at lying.”

Sam scoffs at his bluntness, but the words cut deep.  _ He knows _ , Sam screams inside his head.So this must be it. God had found out what he’d done, and he was angry. But Castiel does not move to strike Sam Winchester, only gazes at him with that strange face.

“Why are you even here?” Sam asks, quietly, afraid of the answer.

“I’ve already told you,” Castiel replies placidly.

Sam shakes his head, he doesn’t accept that. “To protect me from Dean? I don’t buy that.”

Castiel considers this rejection. “Because you are an abomination, Sam Winchester, something foretold. We have all been waiting a long time, but I could not…”

Sam waits. His skin crawls. “ _ What _ ?” he demands.

“In all that time. I could not have ever imagined something like _ you _ , Sam Winchester. The boy with the demon blood.”

And then Sam recognizes the angel’s expression: fascination. 

“You came to point and laugh,” Sam concludes, “at the _ freak _ .”

“I am not laughing,” Castiel says. But he doesn’t deny the rest.

Anger swells up inside of Sam, hate, impassioned by the poisoned blood inside of him. But then suddenly it goes cold. Sam becomes numb. It dawns on him that an angel of the Lord plans neither to stop him, nor to help him. Only to watch. They’ve watched his life go to hell, his dad, his brother, and only intervened in the latter. But not for Sam. There was no divine intervention for Sam, nor any divine punishment. Was that pity? Mercy? Or something worse. 

“How does it feel?” Castiel probes.

Sam is weak in the knees, light-headed, faint. He can hear, not see, the angel come closer. “ _ Like I’m gonna to be sick. _ ” he says as he sways and falls forward.

But he does not hit the ground. Sam is caught by a firm hand on his shoulder, where the mark on Dean would be.


End file.
